


A Little Variety

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cloaca, Consent, Established Relationship, I Don't Even Know, Insecurity, Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Experimentation, Snake Anatomy, Snake Crowley, Xeno, snake sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which Crowley discovers that Aziraphale is more accepting of his nature than he'd expected.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 99
Kudos: 982
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, Crowley's Demonic Side, Good Omens Complete, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Snakey Bits!Crowley, Top Aziraphale Recs





	A Little Variety

There's something about having a warm body to coil around, to settle on and soak in their heat until it was simmering through him.

A human would have complained about the weight of him by now, would have been slowly pinned down by his shiny, looping coils of red and black. But Aziraphale is perfectly content to read with almost a quarter of him draped lazily over his bent arm, while Crowley dozes against the back of the sofa. Every so often the angel will slowly shift a heavy loop of Crowley's body to turn a page. The other hand smoothing gently and repetitively along his endless spine, going with the scales, a drag of warmth and pressure.

It's late enough that the shop is closed and Crowley has been drifting between heat absorbing enjoyment and true sleep for the last few hours. Revelling in the altogether new feeling of being almost entirely content.

Every so often he'll shift a little, just a gentle writhe that rests his heavy body more pleasantly against Aziraphale's thighs and chest, a new space to warm, a new length to take on heat from the angel's body.

Aziraphale's shifting hand settles against the underside of him where it rests just in front of his knee, palm curved at the sensitive point where his tail begins, fingers brushing utterly unaware across the thinness of his cloacal scale. It's interesting, a thrum of warmth and pleasure that makes his tail lift a little, shifting back and forth in instinctive appreciation.

Until it occurs to Crowley that he's effectively letting the angel fondle him without his knowledge, and the shock of it makes his whole body pull in, tail contracting down sharply, knocking Aziraphale's book out of his hand.

The angel raises startled eyebrows, hands going still on him. He tips his head sideways until he can see Crowley's head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I do something wrong."

Crowley's trying to think of a polite way to say 'that's where I keep my sex organs in this form, and I was enjoying it, until I realised that I shouldn't be,' decides that there isn't one and plunges ahead anyway.

"You were touching - that's my cloacal scale," he says simply. Because the angel is smart enough that he's not going to have to elaborate. He spent an entire decade birdwatching because he thought it sounded fascinating. He knows what a bloody cloaca is.

"Oh," Aziraphale blinks, surprised. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, was it unpleasant?"

"Unpleasant, not exactly no," Crowley admits, before stretching his head forward across Aziraphale's shoulder, and shoving his snout into the back of the sofa rather than look at him. "Rather the opposite in fact."

He expects a reaction to that admission, something awkward, maybe a moment of stammering and apologies. How could the angel not be uncomfortable with the implication? But Aziraphale still hasn't moved his hand, and now his thumb is slip-sliding on the sensitive underside of him, where the scales shift and come up. More obvious now that he knows what he's doing.

"Well, in that case," he says quietly, voice soft and curious. "Would you like me to continue?"

Crowley stares at the sofa cushions and tries to decide if this is what shock feels like to a snake. Aziraphale can't possibly mean that, the angel wouldn't, not with him like this. He's currently almost ten feet of heavy, slithering serpent - for all of the intimacy they've shared in the last few months, they don't touch like this.

"Angel, are you asking me if I want you to touch me inappropriately." He tries to make it sound like a joke, to laugh it off, forgets that he can't do either of those when he's a snake.

Aziraphale decides to take it exactly as it sounds.

"I think we've been intimate for long enough now that 'inappropriate' is a bit of a stretch."

Crowley feels like there should probably be a distinction between inappropriate when he's in a human body, and inappropriate when he's a snake. Aziraphale has always insisted that being clear about things is important. The fact that he doesn't seem to see a difference, Crowley doesn't even know what to do with that - with the way it makes him feel. Some tangled mix of shame and adoration.

There's always a chance that he didn't understand what Crowley meant. Or maybe he wants him to change back, to be something with arms and legs and a throat for talking, and laughing and kissing. He stops staring at the cushions like a coward, before coiling around the back of Aziraphale's neck to rest against his other shoulder.

"It was erotic, I liked it," he admits, and knows that if he was human-shaped right now his face would be red, expression horrified at his own honesty. Because now Aziraphale knows, knows that he wants it.

"I wasn't certain if you could feel pleasure in this form. I certainly wouldn't be opposed if you'd like to explore the possibility." Aziraphale sounds so casual about it, _explore the possibility_ , like they're discussing where to go for dinner, or what show to see, not talking about him touching Crowley's cloaca like that's perfectly fine.

"Like this?" Crowley says, shifting and coiling his body into Aziraphale's, to make absolutely sure that the full question is obvious.

Aziraphale nods and smiles at him, like the answer to that was always, _always_. He runs a warm hand between Crowley's eyes, fingertips sliding on his scales in lines of sensation.

"Exactly like this, my dear."

The thought is oddly shaped, it won't fit anywhere, too unexpected to take in for a moment.

"Crowley, would you like me to touch you?" Aziraphale says gently, when Crowley has been still for too long. "Or would you prefer that I pretend we didn't have this conversation and go back to spending the afternoon together quietly." He knows the angel will be happy with either answer. He would never press where Crowley was uncomfortable.

Yes.

Yes, Crowley wants Aziraphale to touch him. It's just saying it, asking for it that he's not sure he can do.

"You can touch me if you want to," Crowley says eventually, eyes fixed on Aziraphale's hand where it's still shifting against his red underbelly. He wants it to sound casual, amused even, as if it's a whim of Aziraphale's that he's happily going along with. But his snake voice is honestly terrible at conveying emotions, at putting much emphasis on things. He settles for very slowly lifting his tail, where it starts to thin away from his body, revealing where the scales have already shifted apart, and the vulnerable underneath shows pink and obvious.

"Oh." Aziraphale's fingers gently slide around the opening. "Oh, that's lovely, do you want me to touch you inside, is that something you'd like?"

It's said so easily, as if he doesn't mind, as if it's just another quiet night in, with his hands on Crowley's body. When really it's nothing like that at all. The thought of Aziraphale putting his fingers inside him, when he's like this - it's filthy and unbearably erotic, and Crowley can't help but want it. He can't speak, can't admit it, even thinking it is almost too much. But he contracts his body, until the heavy coil Aziraphale is holding pushes into his hand, into his carefully sliding fingers.

Aziraphale's fingertip feels hot where the vent opens, against the sensitive, unexplored inside of him. No one has ever touched him there and it's a little startling. All his snake defences are at the front, so far away from that strange, circling touch. Aziraphale rubs, curiously, questioningly, at the pink inside. The cool air flows across his open cloaca, which is an odd sensation. Until the gentle slide of a fingertip dips into him. And it's warm, it's so warm, very dry and tickly, and Crowley's tongue extends out, twice, three times, tastes the musky internal heat of himself, and Aziraphale's own curious interest.

"Wet it," Crowley tells him.

Aziraphale hums agreement and slicks his fingers with a quick miracle, which Crowley has seen him do before but not like this, never like this. For all the times they've already had sex, all the ways they've already touched each other. This wasn't something he'd ever even imagined the angel would consider. 

A dry fingertip becomes a slippery finger, pushing slowly inside him, shockingly new, and he gives a slow hiss at the strange burn of it. It's tight and uncomfortable at the start, and then easier once Aziraphale has pushed in a few times, to the second knuckle, opening him out. Crowley's body can't help but squeeze down on the motion, it's so new, so different, but in a way that's good.

He butts gently at the angel's shoulder. "Put in another."

"Are you sure?"

Crowley flexes in his grip, cloaca shifting awkwardly on the angel's finger, until it almost slips free of him.

"Always so impatient," Aziraphale murmurs, with a little huff, but the next time he draws his finger free it's joined by another, slippery and wide, careful, and slow. It's a tight little stretch that Crowley feels like a burning shiver all the way through him.

Until Aziraphale has two fingers moving in that tight, squeezing hole, cautiously nudging against the inside of him in a way that feels deliciously invasive and overwhelming. He can feel the lower part of his tail arching up, under the repetitive motion, and Crowley's just hissing continuously, feeling that slippery, pulling pressure that's thrumming through his whole body - and he's struck with the desire for the angel to pin him to the couch and just press him into it, rub over him in a dragging motion that he seems to know by instinct. His stupid snake instincts don't care if everyone is the wrong shape.

"Are you enjoying it?" Aziraphale asks curiously. "I'm afraid I don't know very much about how your internal structure works. I don't want to hurt you, or your, umm, male sex organs."

"Yes, I'm enjoying it, and don't say 'male sex organs,' and if I currently had hemipenes you wouldn't get that deep," Crowley tells him.

"Oh, fascinating."

Ugh. Crowley is so pleased this body can't flush with embarrassment.

"Don't say 'fascinating' either while you're fingering me," he says, managing not to be shocked at phrasing it like that, at making it sound so overtly sexual. He's actually thankful now that his snake voice has no real inflection or emotional tones. Because he already feels weird and guilty for enjoying this so much, for encouraging it without dying of shame, original form or no, and Aziraphale making it feel like an experiment is the very last fucking thing he wants.

Not that the angel can't read him anyway, because his other hand is petting carefully and apologetically just underneath his head with warm indulgent fingers.

"I apologise, I just - I've never had the opportunity to touch you so intimately in this form, and I'm finding it quite enjoyable."

Not as enjoyable as Crowley is, he would bet fucking money on it. 

"I assumed you wouldn't be interested in it." Because why would he? Satan, why would he have ever thought the angel might be ok doing this? "Being a snake and all."

"This is as much you as your other body, my dear," Aziraphale says, though it's gentle and quiet, like he knows it's a sensitive subject. "Is this something you've, er, enjoyed before?" 

"No...never been...never been touched in this form," Crowley manages between rapid hisses. He hadn't ever even imagined it, or imagined anything like it, someone sliding along his back, curling and twisting around him again and again, before ending up vent to vent, squeezing and then locking together in a writhing tangling fury. That sort of thing's hard to do with anyone person shaped, and that's assuming he could explain the whole 'oh, hey, did I mention I'm actually a demon who can shapeshift into a snake,' part. Or is he a demon snake that can shapeshift into a man? Who the fuck knows some days, honestly.

His tail drags itself higher, pulling him open wider, and he can feel Aziraphale's fingers sink deeper into him, to the last knuckle, which makes his whole upper half shift and writhe against the back of the sofa and Aziraphale's chest in startled reaction. Because he can feel himself stretch, almost greedily, for that sudden penetration, which suddenly feels sharp and so necessary. It's good, it's very good, different and visceral and _deep_.

"Oh, you just let me go very far into you," the angel says softly, sounding strangely affected, his thumb is rubbing gently at the scales underneath. "Is that alright? You will tell me if I do something wrong, won't you."

Crowley can't make words, but Aziraphale stops moving, clearly waiting for Crowley to answer before he continues, and he forces himself to.

"Yes, it's fine...it's good, keep moving them." He wants to feel that sensation again.

"Can you achieve orgasm like this?" Aziraphale asks quietly. He's watching what he's doing, still sounding fascinated, still so tidily put together. While Crowley is a coiling mass of arousal and embarrassment, cloaca more open than it's ever been, while the angel buries his fingers again and again. 

Crowley remembers, vividly remembers, discovering that he could in fact achieve orgasm like this, repeatedly if he gave himself hemipenes. But that had normally involved a particular type of flooring, a long night, and a dizzy series of loops around and over himself, ending in an overexcited jabbing into a tight space between his own coils. Then afterwards, an embarrassing amount of mess on his office floor, and all over himself. Snake masturbation wasn't really worth it, to be brutally honest. It was much easier to miracle up a dildo and a bottle of lube, and use his own hand.

He'd never tried cloacal penetration, never been able to. He's seriously wondering if he'd been missing out all this time. If he could have mounted a dildo somewhere and worked out the particulars from ground level.

"Yesssss, keep going...add another finger." Because he's greedy, and he wants to feel it all.

"Are you sure, you're very tight indeed?"

Aziraphale makes that sound filthy, and Crowley is briefly frustrated that he can't clench and push back onto him properly, the same way he would if Aziraphale was fingering his human body. That he can't properly show Aziraphale how much he likes this. Though he feels like the way his tail is arched up out of the way, leaving him obscenely wet and open, is making it pretty fucking obvious. He does wonder if he should point out that a snake his size could push out an egg the width of small chicken. Doesn't want to put the angel off though, not when it's all so new and unexpectedly exciting. 

"S'fine," he reassures him. "Snakes are stretchy, made for it aren't we."

Aziraphale hums amusement, turns his hand a little to collect the slick painting Crowley's lower tail, which is unbearably fucking lewd, before carefully pushing in another finger.

Three fingers is a lot, Crowley can feel the stretch, can feel whatever fluid is inside him sliding out to coat Aziraphale's palm and wrist as he works in slow pushes. He's sliding back and forth on Aziraphale's chest, body rippling under the motion, rubbing the angel's knuckles against his internal walls, over and over. They're shifting more than a snake's hemipenis would if it was jammed into him, no spikes or barbs to lock them tightly together.

He can't help but think about it though, about Aziraphale sliding in under his tail, unzipping and tugging himself free, pressing that wide cockhead against his dripping cloaca and pushing in. He'd be so big, a greedy stretch for a place not made for it. He'd have to hold Crowley's body still, against the thrusts he wasn't designed to take, the whole writhing length of him vulnerable and pinned under the angels' weight. Aziraphale would breathe his name and then rut into him in quick, forceful pushes, stretching him wide - and maybe when he came Aziraphale would press in hard and tight, and then stay there, locked inside while Crowley's body slithered from side to side, so he could keep feeling that hard, twitching weight inside him, every inch of it.

The thought is impossibly perverse, and he wants it, he desperately wants it. He's writhing backwards, scales dragging awkwardly, body trying to open to take in more of Aziraphale, who's still sliding his fingers in and out, rubbing them wetly against the stretched rim in quick drags. It's too many sensations all at once, too many nerves to carry them, he's too open, too new to being penetrated in this way.

"Oh, you're so very lovely like this," Aziraphale tells him, voice breathy and soft against his cool scales. He's aroused, aroused by this, Crowley can taste it.

His whole body contracts, sharply and repeatedly, in strange but exquisite shivery pleasure, tail arching up high as Aziraphale's fingers sink into him in quick, deep thrusts. The rest of Crowley's body thrashes against the sofa and Aziraphale's sturdy chest, wide head curling down to jut against the angel's jaw. Aziraphale's head turns to meet him with a sigh and a brief press of a hot mouth to the split of his own, pale hair a barely-there touch against his scales. Crowley's tongue is flicking and flicking as all that sensation rolls through him again and again, and he's so long that it takes forever to go from cloaca to snout and back again, insides squeezing and clenching with it.

There's a sudden, strangely satisfying, wet gush of fluid from inside him, which coats Aziraphale's wrist and his thigh, soaks through his trousers. It leaves Crowley sinking into him, his whole body suddenly going loose and heavy and soft, sparking with fluttery echoes of relief. 

Crowley comes back to himself rubbing his snout against Aziraphale's neck, while the angel murmurs his name in a pleased, warm sort of way. Aziraphale has slipped his fingers free, but is still very gently rubbing at the relaxed, slightly swollen rim of his cloaca. Which feels good, it feels so very good.

Though Crowley also feels oddly embarrassed now, can feel all that liquid under his slowly contracting lower half. "Fuck, sorry, didn't know that would be so messy."

"You seemed to like it," Aziraphale says, and he sounds so happy about that, because of course he does.

"Of course I did, I always like it when you touch me," Crowley says honestly, rather than unpack anything else about this whole affair. Rather than admit to any of his complicated, messy feelings about how Aziraphale just accepts him, without question, or exception. He wonders what else he'd want to do with Crowley, what else he'd let him do, if he'd let Crowley twine every inch of himself around him, and see how many ways they could fit together. His whole body twists and writhes at the thought

The angel is unexpectedly erect under his damp trousers, from touching Crowley, from pleasuring Crowley in a form he has trouble finding acceptable some days. Which is unexpected and leaves him feeling strangely exposed and raw, more than he really knows what to do with right now. But he wants - he wants to show the angel how grateful he is, how much it matters to him, how much he matters to him. He shivers his way out of his snake skin, limbs rearranging themselves under him, until he can straddle the angel, thighs still slick with his previous release.

He leans down, catches a handful of that fluffy white hair and uses it to steal a kiss, and then another, until Aziraphale breathes his name, always so delighted to see him in any body. Then his shaky hand is working on the angel's belt and trousers.

"Your turn," Crowley tells him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Little Variety](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140816) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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